


vermilion

by reciprocal



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: Aquaphobia, Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, Other, Reader Insert, Trust Issues, Violence, batter destroying the face of a troquantary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4973311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reciprocal/pseuds/reciprocal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, friends. I'm not very far in this game (I've only watched Markiplier's first few videos, I don't do PC gaming), so if there's anything I got wrong, please tell me. I have a bad memory.</p><p>Sorry if he's OOC, I'm a new-ish fan.</p><p>enjoy</p>
    </blockquote>





	vermilion

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends. I'm not very far in this game (I've only watched Markiplier's first few videos, I don't do PC gaming), so if there's anything I got wrong, please tell me. I have a bad memory.
> 
> Sorry if he's OOC, I'm a new-ish fan.
> 
> enjoy

"Oh, it smells awful."

That sentence alone engendered a dreadful quiet. The stench - it smelled of smoke and meat, a horrid mixture - wafted into your nostrils and made your face twist in displeasure. You cupped your hands over your nose and glimpsed around at your surroundings, taking note of the sloshing red innards that moved about like pools of liquid. Floating in said pool was a pale bird-shaped pedalo, with its white sides stained pink and the wings suffering a few barely-noticeable scratches. The closer you stepped towards it, the more it made you ill, with your stomach twisting and throat swelling.

"We have to get in that?" Your voice was much more tremulous than you anticipated, and the laugh that followed was high-pitched and dripping with your apprehension. You curled your lip inwards and bit down.

"Yes." Was the reply. The owner of the voice shouldered past you, and you barely caught a glimpse of his jawline and his pursed lips before he tossed his bat into the floor of the pedalo. He adjusted his collar, dismissive of the red stains on his striped uniform, and tugged the floating bird back in his direction with his heel. He seemed so indifferent of the situation and how close he stood to the edge.

You moved back, unsure of whether you just wanted to step away from the meat pool or just your tower of a partner.

"Uh, I don't know." You responded after a moment. Your heart was pounding against your ribcage, but you were more embarrassed than afraid as the seconds passed.

Your partner - the _Batter_ \- shot you a petulant look over his shoulder. His brows furrowed over narrowed eyelids. He seemed frustrated by your hesitation. It made your face feel uncomfortably hot and your hands clammy.

If you were back home, you'd have no desire to continue, no matter the consequences. But there, standing beside a man in a baseball uniform about to ride a bird in a river of meat, you had a small sliver of courage.

A very small sliver.

_You had a mission to complete._

"Are you scared?"

You paused, "Yes."

He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled through his nose. When he opened his eyes, he straightened his back, took a confident step into the pedalo, and promptly took a seat. The pedalo swayed slightly under the sudden movement, and meat sloshed around it in fleshy waves. You inhaled sharply and took a few too close steps forward to the edge.

"Where are you going?"

You sounded irritated.

"Nowhere without you, Player." He huffed an exasperated sigh, leaned forward only slightly, and stretched out his pale hand to you, fingers splayed. Only his refined nose and austere frown were visible under the tipped bill of his cap.

"Grab my hand."

And you did. His hand wrapped like a vice around your own, and you were easily yanked into the pedalo with a swift jerk. You stumbled into the seat beside him and settled, finally. When it began to move, you fisted the fabric of your pants and forced your eyes ahead. Silence, filled with only the squelch of the meat fountains. You wanted to make a disgusted comment, but decided against it in order to not further irritate the Batter. He was silent, per usual, with his back straight and knee moving away each time yours brushed his. Your eyes shifted to the symbols appearing on the green walls that towered over you. You retrieved your small notebook from your pocket and scribbled them down onto a fresh page. Pedaling was an arduous task with your aching legs, so you drew them closer to yourself and watched the landing dock in the distance grow.

"It's not that bad," you said after a moment, pausing with your pencil at your lip, "we just need to-"

Something moved the pedalo from underneath. You heard a soft gurgling noise, and noticed a strip of white flesh slither underneath the masses of red. The Batter stood with his bat and hunched over the edge. You shrunk back, eyes darting around you, the fear creeping up your spine and forming glistening beads of sweat along your hairline. The air was bitterly cold but you felt too warm.

What lurched from the depths of meat was a creature with the thin body of a snake, with its long face opened to reveal a row of teeth that were the size of your index finger. Jagged tines trailed down its spine. It made a horrid sound at the back of its throat and widened its blank eyes at you both.

"Batter..!"

"I know, stay down."

He drew back his bat as one of the creatures neared, and slammed it upon its jaw with a surge of energy summoned by you, his Puppeteer. Its head snapped to the right and its jaw looked misplaced on the skull. Seemingly unharmed, it moved closer, and this time his swing was coupled with more force than before. Something snapped and the beast recoiled within the depths.

"What if we fall in? I can't swim!" You tugged his shirt like a fearful child.

"If you'd stop moving, we wouldn't have to worry."

"I'm not moving." You resented his dour look. 

"What-?"

The floor beneath you shook and you gripped the seat for dear life. The Batter, however, was not nearly as lucky. His legs caught the edge, shock flashed in his eyes, and he was only feet from falling in when your hands caught his shirt in fistfuls.

He was much heavier than you imagined.

You threw him back into the small boat with yourself and felt him lift you into a sitting position to access his bat. You'd never forget the look of relief and irritation and urgency that briefly appeared on his face. His eyes were like the burners on a stovetop. And someone had turned the knobs all the way.

He stood, gripping his bat, and swung fiercely at an unseen force behind your head.

Another crack. Two. You were tucked into a ball, back pressed against the side of the pedalo, tiny pools of blood swirling at your shoes, your arm gripping the seat beside your shoulder to anchor yourself. The Batter stood over you, drawing his arms back for another swing, and you made sure that each hit was full of energy. It drained you both. You couldn't see what lingered behind you in the pool, but you could hear its strangled noises and bones cave. The sound of wood on flesh. When the silence found its way back, he dropped his bat and fell into his seat with only a short puff of calm air.

It took you a few moments to gather your mind. You blinked harshly and moved your legs in the cramped bed of the pedalo. They throbbed. Your back ached like you had slept on a concrete floor for hours.

"Are they gone?"

"Yes."

You turned your head up at him, still lightheaded and weak-limbed. Your hand caught his knee and you pulled yourself up to settle in the seat next to him. He lifted his brows and regarded you with a glance.

"Are you okay?" He didn't sound too concerned, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

"Yeah, but _you_ were the one nearly drowned in cow meat." You wanted to gag at the thought, but wondered how anyone could swim in that. Drowning in it sounded more doable than drying to tread it. Bits of it were sprinkled on the pedalo and your clothes.

"Nearly." He repeated, picking a red sliver from his shoulder. "But you caught me."

You hoped that your act had established a bit of trust; sans it, the chance of completing the mission was near to nothing. "Well, I'm not going to let you die. We're kinda in this together."

Inclined to silence, he returned to the task at hand and turned his face from yours, ruminating. You hadn't expected him to respond, anyways. Though, an occasional "thank you" would be nice. You sunk into your seat and reached down to pick up your notebook. Your pencil felt foreign in your hand after the events of minutes ago, and the next numbers you wrote were in shakily scrawled handwriting. The churning in your stomach eased as you finally began to hear the implacable beating in your ears soften.

After returning the book to your pocket, you allowed your shoulders to slump and moved your arm, suddenly very aware of the cramped seating. You could feel him shift when you pressed your arm to his, but to your surprise, he acquiesced and didn't move away, allowing you the closeness.

You were silent for the longest of time.

"We.. You trust me, right?" You didn't want to, but you looked at him. "You believe I can do this?"

His legs ceased pedaling for a moment, eyes half-lidded, and he spoke pensively; "I don't have a choice."

"Why not?"

"You're the Player. You control my actions, you guide me; I have to trust that your choices will lead me to complete my mission."

"Of... Purification?" You hadn't the slightest idea of what it actually meant.

"Yes," he said. "I can't do this alone."

You swallowed the gummed-up feeling in your throat, "I guess I'll have to trust you too. After this is finished, I have a chance to get home, right?" You laughed weakly. Nervously doubtful. He turned his head from yours and looked forward, his expression unreadable but his body language displaying his doubt. It gave you a miserable feeling. He took a minute to respond, and you straightened hopefully when he looked back in your direction, placid eyes meeting yours.

"Right."

Content with his answer and filled with vigor, you stood as the pedalo hit the lime green edge of the ground and stepped out without difficulty.

Although he didn't need your help, he took your open hand.


End file.
